to the edge of the universe and back
by raffinit
Summary: TLOU AU: Ellie is the product of the gun-slinging, foul-mouthed, sass-master BAMF we all know and love and her burly angsty gruff bear man partner. o u o BECAUSE WHY NOT
1. endure and survive

**BECAUSE I RENEWED MY TICKET TO THE FEELS TRAIN AND YOU'RE ALL GONNA JOIN THE RIDE**

**AU TLOU where Joel and Tess fuck around a little too much and suddenly there is a little tiny baby. AND THAT BABY IS ELLIE BECAUSE FUCK YOU WHY NOT.**

**Companion piece to a commission art piece**

* * *

Joel peels the quilt back gently, sits down on the mattress as if he's trying hard not to break the ice on a spring-thawed lake. "Joel," she says, her voice warm and tired, "promise if you get in bed we'll both be just fine. She won't roll away."

Joel peers anxiously at the small bundle in her arms. Ellie is wrapped in a cozy white blanket, but above that Tess' shirt is wrapped hastily to tighten the bundlings. So her small, squishy pink face sits in a nest of faded pink and white, and Tess' blue sweatshirt is pressed against it. Joel watches the pieces of her hair that fall forwards in front of her bandana, brushes one of them back gently. Tess smiles at him, a silent thank you, and she gently resituates the little baby in her arms.

"Oh - look how small her nose is," Joel says. As if in response to this, Ellie scrunches her face up and makes a quiet little sound. Tess turns to look at him - she's never known something so innocent or tender to come out of Joel's mouth. Tender, maybe. But still; she smiles, slightly astonished. Joel reaches forwards, as if anxious he might hurt her, and strokes the bridge of her scrunchy nose until it smoothes out and Ellie simply looks rather confused. She blinks up at her daddy, and he smiles almost breathlessly down at her. Then she fuffles down into her bundle and closes her eyes.

"Tessa, she's perfect," he manages.

Tess shakes her head, smiles down at her. "She's a perfect little potato." She presses her lips together and looks down contemplatively at their baby, at this small mixture of the two of them, and then she points her finger sternly at Joel. "We promised. We're not gonna fuck her up. We're gonna teach her nice, good things, and we're gonna teach her how to apply, uh, our business model in - positive ways."

He nods seriously. "Never gonna expose her to violence. Well - I mean, not - not if we can help it." He looks at the small, innocent face; barely twelve hours old, brand new still.

"Right. And - and we're gonna do our best never to lose our patience with you," Tess says quietly, squishing the baby in the blankets and shirt.

"We're gonna raise you right," Joel tells her. He edges closer to Tess, stretches out his arm for her to settle into, and she moves Ellie so that she's a little closer between them. Together they look down upon her, anxious and hovering somewhat. It is rather out of the norm for the two of them. It is the only field in a long, long while in which they have felt naïve (or rather, in which they have been naïve but had great faith in themselves).

It is the first time since Tess that Joel has really allowed himself to feel a single thing; and for Tess it is her relief, the feeling of putting her baby to her breast and cuddling her close and inhaling the soft, clean newborn scent, the relief that often comes when she lays across Joel's chest and listens to his heart beat.

"You hear that," Tess whispers, careful and anxious not to wake Ellie. "Your daddy's gonna raise you so well."

"Your mama's gonna be the best mama to you," he says.

"But really, your daddy's gonna do - be the bulk of the role model."

"But not 's much as your mama. You're gonna look up to her."

"But mostly to your daddy."

Tess looks at him. "Really?"

He grins. Nudges her gently.


	2. what if, and then

**Ellie as a tiny little human is probably the thing that broke my ovaries I mean **

**Think about it**

* * *

Her walk is precarious at best, but she manages in short, waddling little steps to the man by the bed, pats her tiny hand on his bare arm. "Daaaadaaa?" She pats his arm gently, and then his cheek, smacks her tiny palm gently over the scruff of his beard, makes a little dreamy cooing sound at the coarse texture. "Daaaaaadaaaaa, wakey?"

Joel grunts, groans as he forces an eye open, finds himself staring blearily at the tiny person by his bedside, clutching a stuffed giraffe under her arm. "Ellie, baby," he mumbles heavily, palming his face. "Whatcha doin' up s'early, mm?" He rolls slightly, curls around the warm body pressed to him, nuzzles into Tess's hair contentedly. "Your daughter's awake," he murmurs at her, pressing a warm kiss to her ear as Tess inhales, stretching slightly.

"Before sunrise, she's your daughter," she moans, stretching hard, grinding back against him as she aligns her spine, purring when Joel growls and lies over her more, a large, warm bear of a blanket.

They hear a squeaky little giggle, and then a pair of small hands clutching awkwardly at the covers as small knees and feet start their trek over their bodies. "Mama, Maaamaaa," Ellie sings, flopping down on top of Tess too, smiling sweetly down at her mother when Tess eyes her through her hair. The toddler smiles gummily, leans in to nuzzle her. "Maaaamaa."

As exhausted as she is, Tess can never deny her precious baby a warm smile. "Hi, baby girl," she hums, and lifts her arm out of the warmth of their blanket, and pulls Ellie under her, tucking the girl in her arms for a nice, warm cuddle. She presses little smushed kisses against the girl's cheek, smiles when Ellie giggles and squeals, but palms her mother's face almost reverently. Tess smiles, a little wistful, a little weary, and takes her daughter's small hand in hers, presses a warm kiss to Ellie's palm. "What're you doing up so early, you little nightmare?"

"Miss you," Ellie says, and cuddles in closer to her Mama. She's about three now, just big enough for her own bed, which Joel had made so lovingly, as well as he could out of recycled shipping pallets and parts of old bed frames they'd found during their trips outside the Wall.

She had been equal parts confused and excited when Daddy showed her the new 'big girl' bed; the softly carved E in the headboard, the small and freshly washed pillow to go with Binky and her own little blanket. Their bed is starting to be outgrown, and though Ellie delights at the novelty of having her own bed, the toddler always finds her way into Mama's arms at some point in the night.

"You slept in your big girl bed all night, hmm?" Daddy is saying; she feels him wrap his big arms around them too, and Ellie loves how warm Daddy always is, and how scruffy his beard is to touch. Joel rumbles as he wraps around both his girls, a giant meaty heater as he presses a kiss to Ellie's hair and strokes Tess's arm.

"I sleep long time," she tells her parents seriously, hugging Binky close. "Sleep aallll night-night, an'nen wakey up an'nen go Dada."

Tess smiles, sharing a small look with Joel as she smooths Ellie's tousled bangs down and kisses her forehead. "You're such a brave girl, mm, Ellie bellie."

Ellie beams at the affection and praise. "I bwave," she repeats, chest puffed, although she remains quite petite and very small between her parents.

In the mornings Tess hangs the wash out from a clothesline that they string across their apartment balcony. They wave in the breeze, like sheets of paper on the line; clean sheets, and shirts and jeans that Joel helps her wash in their washtub, filled with the most water they can spare and a tablet of dissolving soap from their ration box this month. Ellie toddles onto the balcony and tries to jump to reach the swaying fabric, loving the way the sun plays through it, but Tess says "whoa, there," and stops her gently from going to the railings. "Come on, Ellie girl, Daddy's gonna make you some breakfast."

Joel is indeed at the stove. Their generator is precious and they don't want to arouse too much suspicion, but Joel likes to cook his girls a nice Sunday breakfast. There's powdered milk, so Tess lifts Ellie into her chair (he made her that too), and she sips it from her blue plastic cup.

Ellie's reading a picture book - not quite a kids' picture book, of course. Tess had been out near the university one day; the ruins of the library had been scattered with tin cans they could turn in as scrap, maybe grab a few extra rations for the month, and one of the dusty books had caught her eye.

(Tess always liked art.)

It's a book of animation cels and sketches and storyboards for The Lion King. She must've stumbled into the film section, by accident somehow.

So, it's Ellie's book that she always looks through. She can't read any of the captions, of course, and the pages are ripped and faded in places. But it's free of bloodstains, and she always says, Dada, what is it? and he says 's a lion and roars and she squeals and giggles and roars too - more of a tiny, squeaky mewl. Then she flops forwards onto the threadbare rug, crawls like the lions she sees in the book. "Ah lions here?!" she asks him. "No lions here, baby girl," he says, leaning back against the squashy couch, and she jumps into his arms and giggles, nuzzling into his hug.

Today Joel makes her a scrambler - well, for all of them, but he'll serve her first; and he has canned carrots and some potatoes, cuts them in cubes and fries them up. Ellie likes the cubed potatoes because they're easy for her little hands to pick up and eat; the carrots she's not so crazy about, but she's too little to take the vitamins they do. Tess had kept her nursing as long as she could, but after a while he'd noticed her looking a little skinny, a little exhausted, and by then Ellie had weaned herself anyways.

(Joel thinks she must still feel guilty about it. Just like when Ellie was born, and she was so tiny, and Tess had cried while the baby slept and nursed.

_She's so tiny, Joel._

And he'd said,_ Tess, Tess - why - why're you -_

_She's so little._

_Sweetheart, sweetheart she's okay. She's healthy. Look._

She had wiped at her tears with the heel of her hand and let out a quiet sob. Her face was crumpled, and sad. And it hurt him to see her that way; because he saw her as Tess, with a smudge of dirt on her high, bruised cheekbone, with flashing green eyes and thin pretty lips that curved into that mischievous smile, as flushed and sweet. Not as Tess, curled around the baby so tiny crying because she thought she was barely a mother and already she was failing.

_You're so small naturally_, was all he could think to say, strangely, and wrap around her. Ellie, newborn Ellie just Ellie not Elisabeth or Elena or any of those, rolled over, with a little dab of milk on her chin. _She will be too._ _Tiny things, both o'you_.

He'd reached around and buttoned her shirt for her. Tucked her hair, auburn and soft, back behind the bandana she tied as a headband. Ellie, bundled in the softest, cleanest blanket in the world, wriggled, and Tess' elegant, birdlike arm drew the little loaf closer, so that they were in order from largest to smallest.

_You're doin' a good job, Tess. S'okay. H_e kissed the back of her neck, soothed her until her shoulders stopped shaking and instead she took deep, shuddering breaths. He looked around, to see her fingers tracing gently across Ellie's cheeks.

_'m sorry you're not bigger, Ellie girl,_ she'd murmured softly, sniffing and choking a little on the words.

_She'll get big the way she's eatin',_ he'd assured Tess. Stroked her hair softly. _You're a good mama. Don't you worry_.

)

"Cawwots," Ellie says, wrinkling her nose slightly; her face scrunches. Her eyes, the same Tess-light-green, narrow. "Dada? Why cawwots?"

"Eat those, now," he reminds her, pointing a finger as he mixes more of the milk. "They're good for you. Help you see in the dark."

"See in the dahk?" Now her eyes go wide, and she stares at the carrots. Stabs at one with a fork, wrapped in egg, and takes a small bite. Her face twists into a grimace as she chews; "Dada, iss yucky. Yuckyyyy."

"Ellie, eat your vegetables," Tess says, shaking out a shirt. She tsks when she finds another new hole; more things to patch up later today.

"Dun want eat," Ellie sighs, pouting a little; she eats pointedly around the carrots, leaving them on her plate.

"Ellie." Joel leans on the countertop, speaks to her calmly, looks up at her; Ellie stares back at him seriously, rather stubborn, kind of exactly like her mama. "You don't have to eat 'em, but how're you gonna come huntin' with me?"

"Hunt?" Her eyes light up. "Wanna go! Get foods!"

"Well, you ain't gonna grow up big enough without any vegetables; and if you can't see in the dark, I can't take you."

Ellie considers this. "Mnnnnnnnnn."

Then she crams all the carrots into her mouth at once, chews them as fast as she possibly can, and washes them down with a big gulp of milk. "All gone," she announces. "I eat dem. Like a lion. Raaa-wr." She makes a little fist-paw. Joel roars back at her, and lifts her from her chair, sets her on the ground where she laughs and runs on her short little legs to where Tess is folding a sheet. "Mama, I lion!" she announces, roaring again, tiny little mewl, and Tess grins and tosses the sheet over her head.

"Now you're a ghost."

"BOO," Ellie says, beginning to run in circles, before plopping down on her butt. "Boo." She pushes the sheet up, so it's only covering half of her. "Boo." She peers up at her mama and daddy, then crawls forwards, allowing the sheet to fall off. "Hugs." She opens her tiny arms, and Joel and Tess sit down to pull her close, tickle her until she rolls off into the sheet again. Still a little tiny loaf. "I am bwead," she tells them. "Bwead loaf. I lah you."

She rolls herself into the sheet, her small face the only thing exposed now. Ellie has effectively turned herself into a loaf, and smiles gummily at her parents. "Bwead loaf!"

Joel chuckles, a deep, chesty sound as he scoops her up, cradles her in his arms as he did that first night. "Ain't that much bigger than when you were born," he tells her, marvels at the fact that there had once been an innocent, helpless baby in his arms, and now she is rambunctious and giggly and hates carrots.

"Still too tiny," Tess is sighing, shaking her head, although it's not quite as melancholy, not quite as guilty, but Joel presses a kiss to her forehead, and they lie on the floor for a good long cuddle. The clothes flap idly in the breeze, the scent of sun-kissed laundry strangely soothing.


	3. cause and effect

She's about to say "damn it, again?" and grin, yell it to the door, but then she remembers that the baby's asleep, and so she says nothing.

Tess hums a little, quietly, as she undoes the latches and deadbolts that make up the doorway, and she smiles as she looks up, expecting the calm, solid face of her husband, the broad shoulders under comfortable flannel, but instead she is met with a grab of the wrists.

"Wh -"

Then a knee in the stomach.

She chokes, gasps for breath, and she sees them all around her as her eyes swim with tears. "The fuck -"

"Shut up." He has a switchblade; Tess' mind races, she thinks of her gun in the kitchen drawer, her knife on her bedside table. Her daughter, her tiny baby daughter, so defenseless, wrapped in only a soft little blanket, dozing peacefully in the next room. She wants to lash her legs out, but the blade is pressed flat against her throat, and she chokes, panting for air.

"What do you want?" she asks him, level and even, like she's still young and new to this and thinks it's what she's supposed to do.

"You've cost me a lot," the voice growls in her ear; he wears a scratchy denim jacket that smells like the wharf, and the men around him in dark grey, greens, colors borrowed from the military. Not like they don't deal to some of the officers - martial law and corruption go hand in hand. "Lot of shipments. A lot of men."

"I don't know who the fuck you are," she growls, and she feels a boot lash out to kick her hard in the ribs. She wants to collapse, curl around herself and whimper, but she doesn't - not least because of the knife at her throat, "what do you fucking want?" she asks, the tears beading at the corners of her eyes despite herself.

The man paces around her; his heavy boots on her floors, and she wants to lash at them too, pull her gun on them and tell them to shut the fuck up or they'll wake her daughter. "I want," he says, hissing through his teeth as he leans down, just beside her ear, "payment."

"Well, I don't have shit to give you," she tells him, and he shakes his head. He takes the knife away but keeps it trained on her; one of the men starts to tie her wrists together, and she feels the ache of bruised ribs as she chokes for air again. "You better fuck off, then, since I don't have anything you want."

The man huffs, and two of his goons, who flanked him when he forced his way in, step forwards. One of them bends, to where she lies on her knees, slaps her hard across the face, and she spits blood, from the gash blooming on her lip.

"You have what I want."

She looks up at him, sees his hands at his belt -

"No -"

"What the fuck is goin' on - Tess - Tess?"

The door bangs open, and through the gaps in the legs of the group around her Tess can see a familiar pair of construction boots. She almost sobs in relief but almost screams when she sees the shortest of the men hold up a gun, looks almost like a shotgun but she knows it's not, ready to pull the trigger -

Joel pulls first. It catches the man's arm, but it's more than a graze, and he stumbles back, clutching at the blood that begins to watercolor over the sleeve of his jacket. "Get the fuck out of my house," he tells them, his voice rumbling and dangerous. With his other hand, keeping the gun still poised to shoot, he reaches for the crowbar that they keep by the door, holds it up. "The first one to lay another goddamn hand on her is gettin' his kneecaps pried off with this."

They stand there, stock-still, and Tess works at untying her bonds. What an amateur knot, she thinks, spitting blood again. It lands on her soft hardwood floors. She thinks of cleaning it immediately; she won't let her child crawl there.

"Old man," spits their ringleader, and Joel doesn't flinch as he fires a shot into the man's upper thigh. He collapses instantly, and before he can bleed onto their floors, Joel hoists him by the shoulder and throws him into the hallway. He picks up the crowbar again and holds it to the cheek of the next man, "you want your teeth pried out too? I got a pair of pliers in my kitchen."

The man's eyes narrow, and they are gone, and Joel is wrapped around her, and she feels him crying, and that, to her, is too much.

"I should've fuckin' had my gun on me, Joel, I d-don't know why I didn't I just put Ellie to bed -" she's choking for air, clutching her ribs, the bruises that splotch across her cheeks and her chest where she had been slapped and kicked, and he takes a rag and dabs at the rawness of her cheek, and it feels so familiar to her. She nuzzles herself into his touch, tears streaming down both of their faces, and he unbuttons her shirt so gently, so tenderly, looks at the soft yellow that is beginning to flow over her ribcage.

"Too damn thin," he whispers, kissing there.

He gets her ice - they have nothing else - and he helps her to the bedroom door, where they turn the key, creaking carefully.

Ellie is gurgling happily in her crib, a little confused - she'd woken, of course, at the gunshot, but had not quite known what it was. It had confused her at first that her mama was gone, but then, her mama had kissed her good-night and said it was time for a nap, so perhaps she'd return shortly to give her some lunch. Ellie tries to flail her limbs but she's cozied up tight in a warm blanket wrapping, and she whimpers a little, eager to be free.

Joel picks her up, takes her to the bed where he's propped Tess against pillows. "Hey there," he chokes, staring into the small, innocent face of his baby girl. "Hey now." He unwraps her just enough for her to pop her arms out so that she can grab for his beard, hold it gently in her hands; she never pulls, just holds onto it, like a comfort blanket. He lays her half on Tess and half on himself, careful not to aggravate the ribs, and Tess, whose shirt is long gone, strokes her fingers over Ellie's hair.

"Hi, hon," she chokes, wipes at her eyes. She bends to kiss Ellie's head and the baby smiles, gurgles, reaches for her chest, and Tess pulls her gently, holds her while she nurses. She winces, because it hurts where Ellie lies, but she doesn't mind, she clings to the warm little body and holds on so tight. "Mama's here." she whispers. "'m here, s'okay." She feels a strange opening sensation in her heart as she feels her daughter suckle, feels Joel's arms around her shoulders so tenderly, so careful not to hurt her even as she hears the shakiness of his breaths. They are her family; they are here; they are all right, if a little beaten up.

"Hey, you," she whispers to Joel, tilts his cheek towards her. She gives him a long, salty kiss, and he returns it, open-mouthed and almost desperate but still so soft. Ellie hiccups, and Tess uses the corner of the blanket to dab at her mouth, and then rewraps her tightly, warmly. Ellie burrows into the wrappings and returns to her nap.

"Thought it was you without your keys," she breathes to Joel. They watch Ellie sleep, the rise and fall of her chest.

He strokes his fingers through her hair, and when Tess has finally fallen asleep, he scrubs the blood from the floorboards until his fingers are raw, red, and cracked, and the wood is spotless-clean. He goes back to bed, wraps around them, pulls the covers up, and braids Tess' hair again, a little unevenly, kisses Ellie a thousand times.


	4. string theory

**You can probably tell these aren't in chronological order because what is a linear timeline ANYWAY**

* * *

She thinks back and _realizes_ she had suspected it far before she had thought to track it, to confirm it.

But then when she realizes - "Joel - it's been three months. Of course I am -" - she feels so fragile, so anxious, and thinks with a growing vicegrip on her brain of the times she's been hit, punched, bruised and scraped and bloody, whimpers quietly and wraps her arms around her middle, noting the gentle curve. No longer concave, but only just.

He looks shocked, looks afraid and Joel never looks afraid. He takes her in his arms, strong and warm around her, and says that it's okay, says they're gonna be just fine, and Tess tries her hardest to believe him, shaking and feeling increasingly separated from her own body, her own mind.

She thinks of the tiny human growing inside her, of the life that will be tainted by this world, and the thought makes her want to cry.

She does not.

Instead Tess holds it together, because Tess always holds her shit together. She feels about ten times as ferocious as she might if she didn't know there was now someone else to protect, someone besides herself and Joel to watch out for - someone who will need her, who will be so small and so innocent, so vulnerable to the terrors that permeate their existence.

It terrifies her. She lies awake at night, despite the fact that Joel tells her so often now how she must get more sleep. She watches him cook her dinner from the rations, the best dinner he can muster for his girl and his baby, and every time she thinks it she touches the tiny swell of her stomach subconsciously.

What if the baby looks like Joel?

What if they have a son - a tall, burly son like his father? Who'll start out as the roundest little baby, crawling around and getting into things, such a serious little face, looking like he should have a beard drawn on him already. Tess' brain creates images for her of Joel burping his little son, of the boy flopped on his lap, crawling around, pulling himself up on his daddy's leg and growing up trying to drawl when he speaks.

(Tess never thinks about if the baby looks like her.)

She doesn't know why, because Joel tells her all the time - _gonna have a tiny little you, I'll bet, runnin' round gettin' into trouble_ \- and Tess never thinks of it, because she always imagines herself as so much more severe than Joel. He is silent and that is scarier, but Tess spits and fights like an alley cat.

So she has it in her head, by around her fifth month, that she's having a boy and they discuss a name and the boy will be called Ray Lee. Joel broaches the subject with her gently one evening - "and what if it's a girl?"

And Tess shrugs, stares down at her belly (still so small, why is she still so small?) contemplatively and wonders what she'd name her daughter. She never did fantasize about her children's names or her wedding as a young girl; Ray is a name she chose because it sounds strong and Southern and gentlemanly, and more than she loves those things she loves Joel, loves all of the inherent hidden cheesiness he possesses, she tells him that and he says _you tug on my heartstrings like a guitar_ and it comes out _gee-tar_ and she grins and squeezes his shoulder, presses a kiss to the scruff of his beard. And she feels his skin hot and flushed from it, knows that he does not express his emotions lightly.

He never has. So she treasures it. He is always gentle with her, always so chivalrous and kind, but Tess relishes and treasures the moments when he allows himself to open up with her. When he'll tell her things to make her laugh, serenade her almost comically to coax a smile or two from her, when he rubs her shoulders because despite being small she is sore. When he opens the door for her and won't let go even on a simple drop by herself, despite the fact that in his baggy plaid shirt she doesn't even look pregnant.

He is stoic, and so when Joel is warm enough with her, whether it be by drink or by the nature of the moment, to be a little silly with her and say gee-tar and ask her to say it, _aw now see you're the one sayin' it wrong_, and she says _what's wrong with how I say it?!_ and he goes_ gih-taaahrrr_ and tells her it must be that danged St. Louis accent gettin' the best of her -

She keeps it locked away, a little secret that she hides deep within her heart, locked tight so that nobody else will ever find it. That piece of Joel belongs to her. That piece of Joel being happy with her - it is hers to keep. She will draw on it when she needs it. When he needs it.

It helps her, she realizes somewhere along the way, to think of her baby as a piece of Joel. She knows it is, in even the most basic of biological ways, but it makes things easier. Feels less like she's carrying an alien, because although she likes kids and that, she's never thought she'd take well to pregnancy. But when she thinks to herself that it is a little piece of something so important to the man she loves - that makes it so much easier. It makes her curl around her belly at night and touch the tiny ripple of a kick, hum a little song, watch as Joel's chest rises and falls, his hand outstretched to her, perhaps pulling her closer by the gentle slope of her waist. Protective. His hands warm and kind and tender.

_Your daddy loves you so much_, she thinks, ghosting her hand lightly between them. She drifts down a spiral to help herself fall asleep. _He's a good man. He'll take the best care of you, like he does for me; take too good of care of you, forget to take care of himself. Best man I ever met. And I don't tell him enough._

She doesn't, she thinks. If either of them were sappier, she'd tell him every moment of the day, but she hopes with aching desperation that he can feel it in the way she lets him touch her always, in the way she asks for it, in the way she squeezes his shoulders or wears his shirts to bed when she's cold and still gives him back the blankets when he falls asleep. Tess doesn't know how else to say it. Not only because she is afraid to say it, but because it does not feel quantifiable to her.

She practices the words, her lips forming them as he sleeps - why doesn't she like to sleep now? shouldn't she be more tired? wasn't that what everyone always said, back when this was a happy event and not one to dread? - _I love you. I love you so much. I love you_. They feel foreign in her mouth, and yet not, like the words of a favorite song or something she says each night in a dream. _I love you._ She starts to whisper them to him just before she dozes off. Wonders if he hears her.

Sometimes he does; sometimes he does not. Sometimes he lets his eyes crack open to see hers closed as she says it, and he notes the smallness, sinewy muscle, in her shoulder, and the bones that swoop and form her collarbone, and he aches too, because he feels sometimes that if only he were better or stronger or faster or smarter or any better kind of man, his Tess would be sending him out for ice cream or venison or something or other, and she wouldn't be quite so small.

(Makes sense, though. She was always thin, mostly lean muscle, and a little bit of bone.)

When Tess is seven months along she begins to become a little anxious. _What if - what if something goes wrong, or something, shouldn't we find the med people, or the doctor_ \- but they know that's crap, that the doctor is already busy with the gunshot wounds of dying people and a birth is something that goes below a man hemorrhaging in a makeshift hospital bed. In these times it is still something to dread. Not cause for celebration, still not cause for celebration.

_You'll be just fine_, he soothes her. And in his arms she feels safe. She believes him. _I'll be just fine_. He tells her that she is the strongest woman he's ever met. That he thinks she can do anything. That she will be fine, that their baby will arrive safe and sound.

_Okay_. she mumbles into his arm, and presses her face into his shirt and inhales deeply, the soft flannel pressing against her face for comfort.

She does _look_ pregnant at eight months; but he remarks that she's all baby, belly, no weight gain to see in her legs or her arms, nothing but a little more fullness in her high cheekbones and the freckles becoming a little more pronounced. She looks younger, he notes, and grins and she narrows her eyes at him, shoves him gently by the shoulder.

The weeks drag on; Tess only goes to get the rations now. When they all ask where she is Joel tells them in covert tones, and Tess drives herself half crazy worrying about her reputation. _They need to know I can still pistol whip their fucking sorry asses into oblivion_, she tells him, intensely concerned one evening, sharpening a knife on a whetstone. He raises his eyebrows. "Tess," he tells her, "I think that's been - pretty well established. I think they know you'll be out there teachin' 'em lessons the second this baby's born."

"Yeah, well." she mutters. "Hope they do."

As her rough estimation of a due date nears she does get sleepy, tired, spends time lying in their bed asleep until Joel comes to wake her gently with _what? how did you_ \- it's toast, and eggs. He grins, looks so excited when she eats it ravenously, her eyes warm and swimming and sparkling, pulls him down for a kiss.

He spoils her. Of course he spoils her. It's Joel.

It's a week before her due date when she feels it.

Cramping, but not - _cramping_, it's like _tightening_, but it hurts a lot more than cramping, and she grudgingly times it until Joel gets back from dropping off their latest shipment from Bill. When he does she calls him into the bedroom, where she is lounging idly on their bed, attempting to not look anxious at all, and she says "c'mere, gotta mention something to you."

His face instantly changes; he looks so anxious now, and hurries to her side - "what is it? What's goin' on? You okay?"

"I'm, uh, I'm just fine," she says, giving him a cheek kiss hello and noting that he is breathing harder than she is, "I think I've been - having contractions, maybe -" and she doesn't even get through well they're about_ fifteen minutes apart now_ before he's rushing around, making sure she has pillow and water and ice that he managed to get, clean good water, and what does she need? Anything to eat? Well maybe she shouldn't eat - how is she feeling? Is she relaxed? What would she like him to do? He'll do anything. Does she want the doctor? Should he go find the doctor? Maybe it would be best -

"Joel," she tells him, sharper than she initially intended. She takes a deep, shaky breath. "Hon, yoou just - stay here with me, and you help me time them, because pretty soon I'm not gonna bother with checking a clock."

So he does. He sits on the bed with her and lets her lie her head in his lap, times them when she announces them through gritted teeth and strokes her hair, puts it back for her off her neck so she doesn't get too hot. He does a good job staying calm for her, doing the calming for her and helping her through them, so that by the time they're almost consistent - they're so close together and so intense now - he has become calmer than her, and that seems to be about right.

It hurts so much, she thinks it hurts worse than being shot. She mentions that, and whines and presses her face into the pillow and wants to curl up and also wants to push, and then when she thinks the contraction isn't letting up she lets out a little sob and Joel is instantly brushing her hair back, laying soft kisses along her cheek. He holds her hands. Kisses her fingers. _You're just fine_, he hushes her, his voice deep and quiet and warm. _You're okay, Tess. You got it. You're okay._

She breathes through it and it's only a little longer before she informs him, loudly, frightened, that it must be time to push and he tells her they're going to meet their baby soon, their little one. It is a haze of pain, and fear, and _exhaustion_; and she feels herself screaming and doesn't hear it, feels herself crying and doesn't realize it. Somehow his hand is on hers till the last possible second, for her to squeeze and break almost with how tightly she grasps, and finally with her throat hoarse, raw, she screams one last time, almost petering out at the end to a series of little gasps, and she very suddenly feels …empty.

_Mmn_? she whimpers, cracks an eye open hazy with tears. _Joel? H - wh - _and he says _s'okay, s'okay sweetheart s' just fine we_ \- and his voice is choked - _What, Joel? What - _

_Just - just hold on, now, hold - wait -_

She feels her heart clench, she doesn't quite know why. "Joel?"

"She's not - she's not breathing, Tess." He bundles the baby in his arms, rubs at her small, slippery body with the towel, and Tess can only barely see the long, thin limbs of their baby - she's so blue. Joel is trying to revive her, warm her, coax some kind of noise from her, and Tess can only slam her head back into the pillow and wail.

She has failed, once again.

"C'mon, baby girl," she can hear the choke in his words, the desperate keen in his chest. "C'mon now, y'gotta cry for us."

Tess sobs, curls into herself. Her womb feels empty, her arms devoid of warmth; her body is jolted by emptiness, agony and grief in every fiber of her being. Nine months, she has carried their child, bonded herself to knowing that she was responsible for bringing Joel's baby into the world. That she was a chance at happiness again.

Nine months. All for nothing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whimpers, and her hands are gripping the sheets tight, her belly still curved - but so hollow. "I tried, Joel, I tried -."

There is a sound in his throat, something like a sob, closest to it that she's ever heard, and he turns their baby over onto its stomach, Tess can't even bring herself to look, but she hears the firm smack of his large hand over their baby's back, and then there is a wet, thick cough, and a plug of mucus on the sheets.

The baby jerks, as if startled by its own mortality. It sucks in its first breath, and wails.

"Oh God," Joel chokes on his words, each breath shaking his frame as he bundles the squirming, wailing infant into his arms, rocks her close. "Oh Jesus, Jesus, thank God. Thank God." His hands are trembling as he turns to Tess, tears running streaks on his face, lays their baby onto her chest.

"Look, Tess, look - Tessa, Tessa -."

Tess sobs, and there is suddenly a baby in her arms; breathing, snuffling, wriggling as the color returns to her small, frail body. Her heart lurches in her chest, and she feels her breasts ache, the milk that swells in her body to feed this child, this impossibly tiny human.

She traces her fingers lightly over the delicate brow, the soft cheeks and wrinkled nose. She can't quite find her breath, can't stop shaking and crying. "H-hi." The baby mewls, and Tess leans down, presses a sobbing kiss to her child's forehead. The tears sting in her eyes, she cannot see very much at all, but she knows in her soul that this is the most beautiful baby in the world.

_She's alright, Tess, she's okay. She's just fine._

And he clamps and cuts the cord, Joel whose hands are shaking but he has to know how because if he doesn't, who will? And their baby girl is squirming while her daddy towels her off and gets her nice and clean, making tiny sounds and whimpering and barely letting her cry escape her mouth. And Joel, big mean ol' Joel, who holds their daughter close like she's the most precious thing in the world, the most fragile and soft, he who strokes her chubby cheeks and tickles her with his scruff when he kisses her little nose.

He cradles her gently, his eyes gleaming; he is smitten with their daughter.

"She's beautiful," he whispers, tucks her clean new blanket around her small, squishy body. He holds her with the ease of a father, experienced and yet melancholy as he strokes the sparse hair on her head. "Looks just like you, Tess."

And she is tiny. So, so tiny.

Tess chokes when he puts the baby in her arms, no bigger than a loaf of bread, her eyes squinting up at her mama, wriggling slightly in her wrappings. "Hi," she greets her daughter, "hey there," and her voice is hoarse and soft and sweet, and she is almost afraid to be holding the baby. What if she does it wrong? Drops the baby or holds her too tight? Squeezes her too close and hurts her?

She traces one long, elegant finger across the tiny thing's cheek. There is a small noise of response.

She holds the baby to her chest, lets her nurse. So small.

"She's so small," whines Tess, overtaken by a billion emotions, too many to process, and the baby just suckles happily. "She's so little, Joel, week- early -"

"I think we miscalculated, I think she's just on time - she'll be okay, don't you worry," and his voice is so thick with emotion that it makes hers even worse. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. Her arms cradle the baby close. So gentle. Instinctive. "We gotta give her a name, don't we?"

"Y-eah," Tess says, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah, you do need a name, don't you, hmm?" and the baby girl blinks up at her. "What - what'you want it to be, Joel?"

"You pick, you pick," he says, staring mesmerized at them. Tess, in bed with the sheets new and white around her, a tiny baby at her chest. Her hair so close to red, falling about her freckled shoulders, and her eyes so piercing and green. "You pick."

"Ella - Jean? Ella Jean," she asks, confirms, "Jean 'cause - 's a Southern middle name," and she smiles a watery smile, "isn't it? Ella Jean? Sounds like a good Texan name, hmm?"

He wants to say _oh, hush_ but the words get lost on the way to his mouth.

"Ellie for short?" she asks him, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Ellie."

They look down at the tiny baby girl.

"Ellie," Joel tests it, and suddenly there is a little squirm, and the baby's eyes crinkle contentedly. Joel pats her head very gently. "Ellie. Ella Jean. Ellie."

"Little Ellie girl," Tess coos to her. She looks down, doesn't register herself smiling.

"I love you," Joel tells her then. So suddenly. As if they go around saying it every hour like it's nothing.

He leans in, kisses her cheek. "I love you, Tessa, I love you."

She chokes on her words, and they sound too high-pitched for her liking. "I love you too," she says. "'m sorry I didn't say it first - "

"Now what are you talkin' about - "

"I didn't - I was gonna - I don't know, we don't say - I - " she says, devolving rapidly speech-wise, rocking Ellie gently.

"You say it all the time," he tells her, "you think I'm sleepin', or not lookin', you say it all the time."

She pauses, nods, bites her lip hard. "Yeah. I do."

He leans in and kisses her. Ellie hiccups. And he leans down and kisses her tiny forehead.

And then Tess again. And then Ellie.

_You get me some ice chips? _she asks him, sniffing and attempting to regain consciousness of her words. He goes immediately, to get them from the chest freezer hooked up to the generator. And Tess holds tiny Ellie, stares down into the face of her little girl and can't help but grin.

"That there's your Daddy," she whispers. "He's the best man you'll ever know."

Little Ellie sneezes, a tiny, derpy sound, but she looks content when Joel returns; ice chips crushed to perfect chewing size, and a stuffed giraffe to tuck gently beside the baby.

"So she ain't too lonely when she sleeps," he says, and Tess stares down at the contented, slightly squishy face of their baby girl, and thinks that she would never be lonely.


	5. coping

**I hope y'all realize that this will also include a shit ton of angst** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

He makes her stay home for the month; keeps her away from anything that could possibly even think about hurting her or their baby girl. It's not as if Tess is really up to moving around so soon after delivering Ellie anyway, but Joel is working on overdrive now. Do they have enough blankets to keep warm? Are the windows opened enough to let the air in? Is there too much of a breeze? Do they have enough rations to keep Tess fed and making milk for their baby?

There is a stack of boxes in the corner of their kitchen now - rations taken from every source known to them. He had tried his best to reason with even the shadiest of Tess's contacts, although it wasn't quite so hard for Joel to persuade them.

Even Bill has sent his well wishes, in the form of good whiskey and a thick, soft green blanket perfect for the dropping temperatures. Of course, Joel keeps the little explicit note to himself, because what good will it do for Tess to see Bill calling them reckless idiots and Joel a stupid shit who can't keep it in his pants and that he hopes _the little runt makes it through winter_.

"She's not a runt," he mumbles defensively. "She ain't a runt, she's just small." _Tiny like her Mama_, and Joel feels that spike of worry again for his girls.

"I got you somethin'," he says one day; all drops made and cashed, and he walks into their bedroom with a new haul of thick, warm clothes and a tray of food. Tess sits up, bleary eyed from dozing, and Ellie is tucked in her lean arm, snuffling quietly in her wrap. Even in the fading light, she looks thin and worn - pregnancy had only given Tess so much meat, filled her only enough to keep their baby healthy, and now with Ellie almost always hungry, always needing milk, the weight seems to shed from her frame like dirt in a shower.

Tess smiles at him sleepily, or she tries, and palms her face with her free hand as he comes to her side. "What d'you got there, old man?" She tucks Ellie closer to her, settles the baby in her lap to adjust her loosened wrappings.

Joel sets the tray carefully over her lap too, once Ellie is draped over her shoulder, clung to so tight he thinks she's petrified of losing Ellie again. "Y'gotta eat, mm? Y'eatin' for two still now." He makes to take Ellie from her, and Tess regards the plate in front of her; the carefully put together dinner of an MRE plated up.

It's a passable imitation of fried rice.

"Where'd you get this?" she asks. It's not too bad, if a little stale, but it's certainly better than beans and canned carrots. She tries to feed some to him, but Joel shakes his head, rocks Ellie against his chest.

"Pulled some favors," he says, and that's all he says about that. Instead he coos at Ellie, cuddles their baby girl close and croons at her in his low, thrumming voice. Strokes her soft cheek with his weathered fingers, smiles quietly when she gurgles and tries to mouth his finger. "What's the matter, Ellie girl? Mm? Y'hungry again already?"

Tess wipes at her mouth hurriedly, reaches for her almost in a panic. "Give her here -."

Joel frowns at her, shaking his head as he pushes the plate back to her, Ellie nestled comfortably in his chest. "Don't you worry about her yet, Tess. Y'gotta feed yourself 'fore you feed her." He softens when Tess looks almost hurt, and strokes her arm gently, squeezes her wrist in his substantial hand.

"Please eat," he whispers. "For both of us."

Tess' lip trembles almost imperceptibly. For a moment he's afraid that her face will harden, that she will take Ellie back and refuse the rest of it because it's so hard for her to think of the things she needs, too. Her eyes flicker to the food on the plate, and she picks up the fork, and the first mouthful - she starts eating voraciously.

It isn't good, but to her it tastes delicious.

"'s really good," she mumbles, eyes meeting his grateful and almost shameful. Joel rocks Ellie gently, lets the tiny koala cling to him as her mama eats.

"'s not that good," he grins, teasing her gently, and is shocked when he sees her eyes fill with tears. "Tess, I - I can get you somethin' better, it's all right - you - I wish I could've gotten better." He feels his shoulders drop slightly.

"No," she mumbles, swallowing and taking a drink of water, "no, Joel, it's - 's good because you got it for me." Tess sniffs slightly, finishes off the rice and starts on the rehydrated vegetables, and the meat that came in sticks, probably leaving a film of preservatives behind in the wrappers. "It's really good. Thank you." She pauses. "Will you have a little bit?"

He hesitates. She holds out the meat.

He takes a bite - the smallest she's ever seen Joel take, he's usually such a bear when they have food.

"There."

She looks down at the word, and regards the empty plate before her. If anything, she feels like she really has appetite now; but it feels good to feel hunger, and not just numbness, because after hunger pangs subside there's just a vague, burning sense of nothing.

Nothingness has been a friend of hers for a while now. It's strange almost to feel something other than the numbness.

Ellie wriggles in her father's arms, snuffling as she flails her tiny fists up, rubs them against Joel's scruff and whines because she has learned that Daddy doesn't have milk like Mama does. She starts to scrunch up her tiny face, and whines again. Their daughter is small, hasn't grown much at all in the first two weeks of her life, but Ellie is always hungry, always in need of cuddles.

"Aw, Ellie," Joel coos, rocking her gently. "C'mon now, don't be like that. Let Mama rest a little bit, mm? Mama's gotta eat too."

Tess leans over, hovering anxiously as her hands weave around their baby's small form. "Here, here - give her to me." She pulls Ellie into her arms gently, settles the baby back into the crook of her arm as the baby's fussing quiets somewhat, fades away when she slips her nipple into Ellie's mouth.

The baby gurgles contentedly, suckles noisily at her mother's breast. It's almost greedy, but Tess curls around the baby tighter, whispers her quiet, soothing murmurs as Ellie wriggles. "S'okay, baby girl, you can't help it, mm? Can't help being hungry when you're so tiny."

Joel sighs quietly. "Tess, I know you think that -." Tess curls around Ellie even more protectively, turns her body slightly away from him; it's the most subtle she can be, but he knows her better than she'd like to admit. He reaches out, touches her skin of her back gently, squeezes her shoulder. "Sweetheart, s'not your fault. It's not. She's little. So what? All babies are little, Tess. They grow."

He pats Ellie's little bottom gently. "She'll grow. Just you wait. She'll be big and strong before you know it."

Ellie makes a small sound, almost of agreement, but it might also be of contentment the way her face changes when she suckles. The little thing might have a body about the size of a loaf, but she has the appetite of a Joel. "See?" He strokes Tess' hair back gently.

Tess is biting her lip hard, watching the tiny baby nurse contentedly. She wonders if her milk isn't enough; if somehow the milk she's making isn't as nutritious, if it doesn't have enough vitamins and nutrients for their baby. It's hard to believe Ellie is growing at all. Two weeks in, and she's still as tiny, as fragile, despite eating nearly as much as her Daddy does. These are the things Tess thinks of at night, worries that pry at the back of her mind as the moonlight falls over her; what if she did something wrong? She was too active during the beginning of her pregnancy - her body wasn't built for it, was it? Something was wrong, she must have done something wrong. She hovers too much. Ellie will love Joel better.

She whines a little, and Ellie relinquishes the nipple and hiccups happily. "Tess - Tessa," he says, his voice low and soft, and he curls around her, lets her press his face into the soft green flannel of his shirt. Tess stole his shirts constantly, still does, before and during and after her pregnancy. She loves to be wrapped in him even if he can't always be wrapped around her. He hears her inhale and exhale, her breath shaky and teary and choking.

"I'm - I feel like I'm fucking failing her," Tess says into his shirt, her voice muffled. Ellie wriggles quietly, her eyes wide, so obviously baby-concerned about her mama.

"Tess - "

"She's so tiny, I made her that way," Tess tells him. "I can't feed her enough, sh-she wants you to hold her all the time, I'm n-ot equipped to - to - "

He hushes her, holds her so tight to him; he fears he'll break her, but he holds her anyways, and lets one of his hands drift to span over Ellie's loafy form. The baby whimpers quietly, in time with Tess. "She doesn't think that," he murmurs, "Tess, to her you are the most amazing person in the world. You're her mama, she loves you, she will always think you're the most amazing person in the world. Y'know that, come on, now."

"But I'm - not - " Her fists clench and unclench, and Tess wraps them in the fabric of the shirt, buries her face against his chest and sobs silently, her breath leaving her for seconds at a time. She feels so much intense shame; Joel has to bring her food to get her to eat, she's not going to be able to feed her baby if she can't do this, what would they do? The ration formula - but they won't have enough cards to get enough to feed her - how would they keep their baby alive when all the milk's dried up?

Ellie is small, Tess made her that way, it is her fault, it is all her fault.

Ellie whimpers again. Her mama is making sad noises, is turned away from her, and Ellie doesn't like that. She had been enjoying her milk meal, and was in fact quite finished and ready for a warm cuddle and a nap, but Mama is sad and Daddy is cuddling her. Ellie makes a little derpy sound, something along the lines of _blrrp? _and pouts quietly, her lip wobbling. Joel is hushing Tess, holding her tight as she dissolves in his arms, and Ellie lets out a wail and flops her arms about.

It takes her less than a second to start crying. She is confused; why is everyone sad? It's a lot for the small, slightly derpy lens through which Ellie views the world.

The moment she does both of her parents turn around, startled, and Joel says, "look. She needs you."

Tess reaches with shaking arms, gathers the baby close, dabs the tears away gently and kisses them. She kisses Ellie's tiny nose, rubs her tiny baby feet, lets tiny fingers grasp around one of hers. She sniffs, choking a little. "'m sorry, Ellie," she murmurs very quietly. "'m sorry."

"You're doin' a good job, Tess." He rubs her shoulders, watches as Ellie calms and then rolls over so that she is pressed against Tess' chest, still making tiny scared noises, and letting her tiny fists clench in Mama's soft shirt. "Look. She loves you."

He pauses. His voice is deeper than usual - "I love you."

Tess sighs. "I love you too, old man." She pets Ellie's soft, chestnut hair, very gently, very lightly. She feels a scratchy, soft kiss on the back of her shoulder.

"Don't know how to make it better," he says, and it hurts him to even say it; he's supposed to make it better for Tess - "but I love you no matter what, hm?"

Ellie gurgles quietly. She is dozing off to sleep. Her little face is pressed to Tess' chest. She snuffles a little bit. She clings.

"She loves you too. We love you."

Tess smiles, watches as Joel's hand (the length of about two and a half of his hands equals one Ellie) slips from her shoulder to Ellie's back, pulls them closer, ordered in descending size.


	6. ups and downs

**I didn't realize I was sitting on this the whole time and I thought I lost all the files from everywhere and it was all an ugly mess of tears and wailing. **

**Have more of Tess feeling like a failure and then have some about her feeling better about herself. **

* * *

The passing weeks are fast; they know nothing but the constant, looming worry for their child. Ellie cries more now, howls and screams for reasons they can't understand, can't stand to not soothe. She fusses even when she is held close, rocked in their gentle arms and murmured to quietly. She is always hungry, always cranky, but she is not sick, not feverish. It drains her mother, Tess who tries her best to wrap her baby close, feed her whenever she needs feeding, but Ellie is inconsolable.

"Please, baby," Tess whispers, she is shaking and her eyes are swollen from weeping with Ellie. She holds the baby to her shoulder, bounces and rocks the small baby even as Ellie is screeching into her ear, her legs are tucked into tight, her tiny fists clenched into her shirt. "Please, please tell Mama what's wrong."

Ellie chokes on a sob, screams louder at being interrupted. She flails her limbs, tucks them even tighter onto herself when Tess lays her down onto the bed, unwraps her to check her diaper. She whimpers at the sudden exposure, suddenly vulnerable, and becomes an even smaller ball.

Tess sags into herself. She is exhausted, Joel has not returned from their drop-off, and nothing she does is helping. "Ellie, please." Something must be wrong, she must not have done something right, their baby is hurt, or isn't okay, and she can't do a fucking thing about it.

Everything is her fault, again. She's hurt the baby somehow, and she fucked it all up.

Joel hadn't wanted to go to the drop-off, of course not - how could she have expected a thing from him in a time when both his girls needed him most -, but their client had been impatient, threatened to find other sellers.

"Baby, please?" She reaches down, fingers trembling as she tries to brush the tears from Ellie's face, but the baby flinches, and Tess recoils as if she's just struck their daughter. "Oh - God, baby, Mama's so sorry, Mama's so so so sorry."

She sweeps the baby into her arms, holds Ellie as tight as she dares; she wants nothing but to run away, curl into a corner of the room and sit in shame, but she can't bring herself to leave their baby, to abandon the innocent life she's already failed. Tess huddles into bed, tries to maybe nurse, but Ellie squeals, her small face scrunching up as she makes a strange, grunting sound in between sobs, but then at last, at last the door sounds.

Joel.

"Help her," Tess pleads with him, her voice comes out exhausted and cracked and choked with tears, and Joel looks so frightened at seeing her like that, with her eyes red and filled with pain. He scoops the little baby into his arms, holds her close, and Ellie's crying is slightly muffled now. He rubs her back gently, rocks her, soothes her quietly, makes hushing sounds, and neither can see it but the tiny face crumples and there is an almost imperceptible toot sound amidst the crying.

Immediately Ellie quiets slightly, whimpering and whining now instead of wailing at full volume, and after a resounding volley of poot, she's clinging to Joel's shirt, eyes wide and afraid, sniffling, occasionally making little whimpering sounds of distress as he hushes her and gives her periodic little squishes. With each squish comes a small toot, and this seems to be soothing her.

Tess is kneeling on the bed, sheets tangled about her, her hands curling limply on her lap. She watches Joel and Ellie as if through a haze, as if she is not fully present, her lips parted slightly and her eyes nothing but windows to agony, green and red-shot, staring but unfocused.

"Just, uh, little gassy, huh?" Joel's saying, rocking Ellie gently, squishing her once again, and this time she toots proudly and even smiles a little bit, tears still on her cheeks.

"Look." He sets the flaily little bundle down, and Ellie rolls on the sheets, coos quietly, whines a little and then toots shyly. Tess stares down at the baby, her hand coming instinctively to rest on the little tummy, but she looks down and her eyes are still red and unfocused.

Joel makes her coffee first.

A hot, strong cup, served black, with the last of the best instant they have. Tess sips it almost disinterestedly from her usual chipped black mug, but the liquid sears on her tongue and warms in her throat, gives her a gentle jolt and tingle in her fingertips.

He lays Ellie on her lap, and she draws her knees up slightly so Ellie is propped up, sitting position, her head against her mama's knees, mesmerized as Tess drains the coffee.

It's cold, and Ellie is the only one of them wearing anything appropriate for the weather - soft little booties and a bodysuit, warm fleece with snaps up the front, a cozy spring-green color. Tess' hands are cold. She is cold. Joel wraps her in the blanket that usually lays across the couch, threadbare but soft, and his red flannel, the one she likes best to wear herself (she likes green on him). Her hands come up reflexively to pull the fabric tighter around her, and Joel wraps them instead around the still-warm mug.

He lets them sit and look at each other for a moment. Ellie's eyes are wide and green, the perfect combination of Tess' irises and the crinkly smile of Joel's. She regards her mama intently, burbles quietly and squishes her hands together, reaches for her little bootie'd feet.

Joel wraps his arms around both of them then, around Tess' shoulders, and she almost flinches away from him; certainly she turns her head and lets a curtain of short auburn hair slip forwards to hide the curve of her cheek, which is cold from the weather. He presses a kiss there, pulls her gently against him so that she can hide her face in the crook of his neck. He feels no tears, nothing but a deep, almost reluctant breath, and she curls a little closer, Ellie enfolded between them. He holds her so tightly, protective, as if he is protecting her from herself instead of the exterior forces that usually riddle their lives with scrapes and bullets. Tess cannot see inside his head, but he is attempting with all his might to project warmth and comfort to her, trying so desperately to get her to understand him, but more than any of that he wants to love her, wants her to know that she is loved, if nothing else that he loves her, that their tiny baby girl loves her, of course she does.

Ellie, as if to compound her daddy's point, reaches out, makes little grabby hands, and starts to whimper. Tess wants, aches, to cuddle her close but is terrified that it will do nothing and she will feel worse than when she began and Ellie will be no calmer; that maybe it's easier to let Joel do it all, because how horrible would it be to keep getting her hopes up and having them dashed - to keep reaching for Ellie and disappointing her, disappointing her child with the lack of comfort she can give, disappointing herself and Joel and how much could it hurt to have either of them look at her, to look at herself with such disgust and hopelessness -

Joel nudges their little loaf of a baby forwards, and Ellie flops warm and soft onto her chest.

She quiets; snuffles a little and nuzzles Tess' neck slightly. Her little grabby hands reach up and, when they find Tess' thin, elegant fingers, grasp as tightly as they can. Ellie's eyes slide close, she takes a deep sigh, and she begins to doze comfortably, pulls her limbs in along with Tess' hands to become even smaller, even cozier, a warm little bundle.

Tess exhales. She feels the tiny fingers wrapped around hers.

Ellie will grow up; she will be larger than a loaf someday. She will love riding on her daddy's shoulders; she'll fight with him sometimes, because they're similar people, really, committed to being decent and upstanding despite their circumstances, rather physical, and possibly later on with a weakness for pretty girls, but sometimes they'll have their little disagreements. He might want to protect her a little too much; and someday Joel will confess to her that he regrets climbing up to get her from the tree instead of letting her find her own way down - but he still would've spotted her, of course.

But with her mother Ellie will understand; they will complement each other in ways that confuse Tess - aren't mothers supposed to fight with their daughters? Isn't there supposed to be an element of confusion, one of volatility, one that engenders spats and anger and those emotional apologies and having to talk things out? But they will not experience this for the bulk of the time; perhaps once or twice, Ellie will be too brusque and Tess will be too snappish and they might butt heads, but otherwise, they will love each other deeply. Tess will care for her as tenderly as if she is forever the tiny loaf baby, but allow her to grow accordingly. And Ellie will hold Tess up as the paragon of who she aspires to be, as her truest supporter.

She will never say it, precisely; Ellie is a little shy about expressing things like that. But to Ellie, Tess will always be the best mother on earth, the luckiest she could have been to receive as a mother.

Joel holds his girls close, presses a kiss to Tess' hair and listens to them breathing in time, all three. He lets them stay like that for a long while, until Tess is asleep too, tears falling from her eyes even in sleep, until he wipes them away. He curls her against pillows, freshly restuffed with down and clean and soft; covers her first with the sheets, keeps her wrapped in his shirt and the blanket, arranges Ellie carefully on her back but still in Mama's arms. Pulls all the blankets he has over the two of them. He leaves a bright, lovely orange on the overturned crate that functions as a bedside table.

(There aren't a lot of oranges any more. Tess loves them.)

She wakes after a long, long time of sleep, of rest; her baby girl is stirring next to her, tiny baby yawns, sweet and quiet and innocent, and then gentle nuzzling of her chest, like a tiny lion cub searching for milk. Tess eats the orange while she nurses and Ellie coos contentedly, mumbles little things against her breast. Tess finds her mind wandering, wondering idly if breastmilk would taste like a creamsicle with enough oranges eaten. It's been a long while since her brain wandered. Joel comes back and slips into bed beside them, and they sleep that way in order as they always do. He holds onto her so tightly, so tenderly at the same time, and she feels a flow of adoration and hears him choking when he tells her he loves her with every kiss he lays on her cheeks.

But first, Tess becomes aware that she is warm. The apartment is chilly, drafty, unheated, but her fingertips, even, radiate with heat.


	7. to run, then walk

**Ellie goes and it's the cutest thing.**

* * *

Ellie was born absolutely tiny; barely big enough to swaddle, and spends the first year of her life being very little and sweet, the apple of her parents' eyes and the source of many sleepless nights. With so little space to spare, Joel had made a small, snug crib for their baby girl - put together with as much care and love that he has for Ellie and her mama. At night he sits by and rocks the baby in her wooden crib, watches her breathe and snuffle in her little baby way, and feels the warring emotions in his chest.

It is all so familiar, and yet so very, very different.

Tess sits up and watches with him. She's not always up to keeping such a candlelight vigil as Joel, being a new mother is exhausting, especially when she is so thin already and Ellie needs all the nutrients and warmth her mother can give her. She does her best though, leaning half-asleep against Joel's back as they hover by their baby girl's crib, whispered conversations in the night about how impossible it is to have someone so tiny and precious. Without fail, Joel wraps his arm around her waist, mouth pressed to the side of her face in a gentle kiss, and they stay that way until Ellie wakes for her mid-morning feeding.

(He hunts more after Ellie is born. They can't afford to rely on just rations now; Tess is running on fumes by the time the baby is a month old, and Joel can't deny the need in his blood to provide for his family. There are close calls too many times to count - the Wall's security has doubled, but it's a risk he think he'd take all over again, just so he can bring back fresh meat and wild greens for Tess.)

When Ellie is two months old, she spares them a first, bleary smile, and Tess bursts into tears at the sight of it. She is so sweet, so untouched and innocent in the midst of their madness of blood and disease and death, and Tess clings to her daughter, wraps her arms tight and holds Ellie to her chest as the baby gurgles and coos and reaches for her dark hair.

She's always so bubbly, so easy with a smile and a giggle, and loves to mash her tiny fists against Joel's beard when he holds her.

"Y'like Daddy's scruff, hmm?" he thrums at her, a chuckle that doesn't quite escape his chest when Ellie stares at him with wide, hazel green eyes like her Mama's, and makes a small baby noise. He smiles at her, leans down and rubs his chin gently over her exposed belly, and the laugh finally sees the light when Ellie squeals and flails, a gummy smile on her face.

Ellie reaches for his chin, cups it in her tiny palm, gurgling and babbling at six months old. She stares at him seriously, and it's almost uncanny at how identical a look he's seen on Tess' face before, and he kisses the inside of her palm, as he does sometimes with her Mama.

"You're a scrappy little thing, ain't ya, Ella Jean." He jolts when she smacks him on the cheek, and smiles warmly at her, tickling her back. "Just like your Mama."

When she starts to outgrow her little swaddles of warm, clean wraps, Joel and Tess hunt for actual little baby things to put their daughter in. Ellie had spent the first year old her life practically naked, covered in soft towels and shirts cut down and shrunk for her, or wrapped up tight in a sling on Mama's chest. It's not something conducive for a toddle just learning to walk, and so they scavenge and trade for things Ellie can grow into.

There are months of empty stomachs and many bruises, but Ellie is always warm and fed and happy, and that is all that matters to them.

"Come here, Ellie baby." Tess holds a small bundle of something in her hand; it's hard to bend down now, her stitches make it hard to breathe, but she smiles anyway to her small daughter. Ellie comes to her on all fours, because even at a year old, she's still more comfortable crawling than she is walking.

She balances on her Mama's knees unsteadily, her tiny chubby legs swaying slightly. "Mama?" she peers up at Tess curiously, pokes a small finger at the bruise on Tess's shoulder. "Owie?"

Tess takes her hand gently, kisses her fingers and holds up the shirt; a red short-sleeve, a little dull, but not too frayed at all. "Look what we found."

Ellie gasps, her eyes go so wide it's adorable as she fingers the material, it's such a pretty color, and a nice shirt to wear just like Mama! "Ooooh." She nuzzles her face into the shirt; it smells warm and clean, a little bit like Mama and Daddy.

She hops on her tiny legs, or rather bounces as Tess slips it over her head, but the shirt is so big for someone so little, and the shirt sleeves go down most of her arm and the shirt pools around her feet, but Ellie looks so pleased with herself, swallowed inside the swath of red, and she hops up into Mama's arms for a nice cuddle.

"Than' u," she says, nuzzled into Tess's side. She goes to bed in her shirt, cuddled inside it, dreaming of happy sweet things while Joel and Tess watch her sleep, and wash the bloodstains off their own tattered shirts in the morning.

Ellie loves her shirt; she wears it all the time, to bed and all day, and Tess rolls the sleeves up so it's more like a little tank-dress. Ellie scoots around in it, pushing herself up on the couch and on the coffee table. "I go," she announces, pushing herself up and then flopping down on her butt when it proves to be too big of a step.

One afternoon Joel sits on the floor with Ellie in his lap, while she plays with a little toy Tess made for her: cardboard, cut into a softly rounded square, and a picture of an elephant on the front. Ellie uses a safe little rounded needle that Joel carved carefully and meticulously from soft wood, and threads yellow yarn leftover from stitching up Binky, to make the picture of the elephant whole again. She's done it so many times already, but she still delights in having Daddy help her get it started, and then she can finish by herself, poking the needle through the big holes and then pulling it through with her other hand. "So-oooh, soh," she says, just like Mama and Daddy do! Mama and Daddy don't make elephants, they make the holes in their shirts go away and things like that. They also fix Binky if he gets his stuffing coming out.

They make all the rips and tears go away; Ellie makes elephants.

She sets her sewing card aside. "I go," she informs Joel, and pushes herself up off his knees. "Whoa there," he tells her as she sways slightly; Ellie can stand without support, it's the moving that gets a little tricky.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Tess says, sitting herself down at the other end of the living room. When she sinks down she feels her hip crack, and she winces slightly as she crosses her legs. "Oh, are you goin'?"

"I go!" Ellie affirms, delighted that Mama has recognized her intent. She moves one leg (soft and chubby), then lingers in that position for a while, half-lunging. With a great, concerted effort, Ellie then picks up and moves her other leg. She does it once more - the first leg forwards, pause for a moment, then the next leg forwards. She looks up at Tess, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in amazement. Then she takes a couple more steps - it's as if she does not dare to look behind her, for fear of being twisted around and falling, but then she flops forwards onto Tess' legs.

"MAMA," she squeals. "I GOOOOOO."

"You goooooo!" Tess cries, and Ellie crawls up delightedly to flop on Tess' chest. She gives her mama a hug, smiling so so wide, and then she turns around and waves excitedly at her daddy.

"DA-DEEEEEEEE." she exclaims. "I GO! ? SEE? ELLIE GO."

"I saw you, baby!" he says, reaches out for her - "c'mere, baby, can you go over here? Walk over here?" He and Tess are grinning just as wide as little Ellie baby, and this time she picks up her knees almost to her chest and stomps down gently and runs to flop into his arms.

"I gooooo." She squeals, giggles, grabs affectionately at Joel's beard.

"Good job, sweetheart," he mumbles, his voice rather thick, and he holds her close, gives her a tight squish.

(They lie in bed at night with Ellie curled between them, knocked out cold on a milk binge as Tess whispers to Joel about new deals and the frightening possibility of being pregnant again.)

(She's not, but Joel's balls don't drop again for another week.)


End file.
